


Close Shave

by oceaxe



Series: Closer Than Skin [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Partners, Facial Shaving, M/M, Stakeout, Wet Shave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 01:36:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14864169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/pseuds/oceaxe
Summary: Draco doesn't mind an audience. In fact, he prefers it.





	Close Shave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaesterChill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaesterChill/gifts).



> I went through a six-week writing drought and then, in desperation, turned to Tumblr for a prompt - something, anything to get me writing again. Maesterchill delivered "wet shave," which was so rich with possibility, the fic just kept writing itself. And now here we are, a four-part pwp about shaving!

I tip my head back and slather Egyptian cream onto my neck. I don’t have much growth there, but then again I’m not really doing this because I need to. I’ve left the door open a fraction, enough for it to seem accidental. Harry will be up in a moment or so, and he’ll stagger in here for a piss, and I’ll be standing here, naked to the waist.

Something has to give, sooner or later. I’d prefer sooner. We’ve been dancing around each other for nearly two months and I can’t stand it any longer. So I spell the straight razor sharp and test it on my forearm. Good. It shears the hairs off effortlessly, leaving a patch of skin as smooth as alabaster. I want to put on a good show for Harry, and what’s a show without a little danger?

A flicker of movement in the mirror catches my eye. The door opens and Harry, shirtless as well, stumbles in. I can practically feel the sleep-warmth rising from his skin, or maybe that’s just the dampness from my earlier steaming hot shower. He’s not wearing his glasses. I clear my throat.

“Malfoy? Jesus, I didn’t know you were in here. Sorry, the door was open…” Harry’s already backing out of the room, looking anywhere but at me. That won’t do.

“It’s fine,” I say, holding my hand steady as I bring the razor to my left cheek. “I’m not looking. Have a slash, don’t be a prude.” I slide the razor down and can see that I’ve got Harry’s attention now. The soft scraping noise is loud in the echoing silence of the tiled room.

He moves closer. “I’ve never shaved like that–aren’t you worried you’ll slit your throat?” His eyes meet mine in the mirror.

“Hardly,” I say. “I’ve been shaving this way since I was 14.” It was closer to 16, but never mind that.

“I would have thought you’d use a spell.” He’s come closer. I can smell him now, redolent of his bed, musk and sweat. I draw the razor slowly towards my jaw, angling my head up and keeping eye contact as I drag it down my neck. His eyes track the movement and he swallows.

“Can I watch?”

“Of course,” I murmur, as if I don’t care. As if I didn’t stage this whole scene, hoping he’d be drawn in. He moves to prop himself next to me on the counter, half-sitting on the second sink. “But didn’t you have to piss?”

He shakes his head, eyes still focused on the razor that reveals inch after inch of my bare flesh, emerging from the foam.

“I’m good for now,” he says. “Keep going.” I nearly miss the way his gaze trails away from my hand and down my chest to where my pants ride low on my hips. I’m fully hard but I don’t think he can see. I press up against the pedestal just in case, not wanting to give the game away so soon.

My breath is coming faster though, and a pink flush is starting to spread over my neck and chest. Part of me hopes he’ll mistake it for irritation from the blade. Part of me hopes he won’t, that he’ll see what his proximity and our half-naked state is doing to me.

I pull the skin taut on my cheek and the blade glides down, almost frictionlessly. My neck is bared to him and I’ve done this so many times I don’t even have to watch my hand as it descends. Instead, I watch his heated, hooded gaze, which is roving all over my neck and shoulders and chest. My fingers tremble, just enough to cause the blade to slip. I gasp and a bright spot of blood wells then drips down my neck, causing Harry to curse.

“Are you alright,” he asks, voice low and concerned as I put the blade down and dab at the spot with my fingers.

“It’s only a little blood,” I say, and I stick my finger in my mouth, sucking the blood away. He stares at my mouth for a long, urgent moment, then looks away.

“I’m distracting you,” he says. “I’ll come back when you’re done.” There’s a wet spot on the front of his joggers. There’s no way I’m letting him leave now.

“No,” I say, a little too loudly. He meets my gaze in the mirror. “Not at all. I don’t often get to perform for an audience.” I whisper an _Episkey_ at my neck and the tiny pink spot vanishes. “Besides, I’m almost done.” I drag the razor along the edge of my jaw one last time, a stripe of white cream disappearing like magic. I turn to face him.

“It looks…" he trails off, eyes roving all over my neck and face. He clears his throat. "The razor does a good job,” he finishes. “Can I touch?”

I nod and present my cheek to him. “Go on.”

His fingers trail over my face, burning hot, the tips slightly rough. The contrast is so erotic, I can barely stand it. He traces a path from my cheek, over my jaw, down my neck. “I’ve never felt anything so smooth,” he says, even his voice rough.

“I could do you,” I say, then close my eyes against a sudden swell of shame. I hadn’t meant to play that card yet. When I open my eyes, he’s smiling at me.

“Please do,” he says.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://www.oceaxereturns.tumblr.com)!


End file.
